Himyar's Rise
by BurdenedShrike
Summary: Fanfiction detailing the ongoing grand campaign of the Himyarite kingdom. They shall crush their foes and accept the realities of their situation, or they will crumble, fall, and ultimately be lost in time. Rome 2 Total War.
1. Shifting Sands

A King's Vision.

Author's Note: The story is based on the ongoing events of a Himyar Grand Campaign in Rome Total War 2 using the All Factions Available mod as well as the Diplomacy mod and Radious mod, as well as sub mods.

Chapter One: Shifting Sands

"Bring Jugurtha." Two words was all it took, sending a wave of servants fleeing from his presence, bowing and scrambling backwards to please him. The display did not impress the king. Syphax took a deep breath, and then exhaled. He was a man of twenty nine years of age, and had a somber complexion. His dark skin complemented his hair, which was long and uncut. Jugurtha was an option. One out of three, but the other two were quiet, and hesitant, and not nearly as violent. Good for a spy, whose purpose was to scout, but he did not need that. He needed an assassin, and the demeanor of the two spies would have given off their intention long before they could strike. No, he did not need a passive and slow poison. He needed a quick flash of anger, the sinking of a blade into a stomach. He needed someone who was willing to die. With lighter skin but dark hair, he always thought Jugurtha could pass for an Egyptian. Jugurtha was much more volatile than his comrades, always making loud claims while his associates hung back in dogged silence. It was this trait, to the disgust of his advisor, that Jugurtha was hired. Not only that, but Jugurtha, in comparison to his comrades, had no family in Eudaemon, Himyar's city. Of course, the assassin still needed time to collect himself. He was being sent out tomorrow.

Wincing as the sun rose even higher, the king shielded his eyes. His father dead, he was called to lead his people to prosperity. All around him, he was surrounded by hostile people. All of the other kingdoms in his area had scorned Himyar for their religion, Judaism, which conflicted with their neighbors. No one wished to trade goods with his city, whose small port lay neglected, a worn down ship bobbing with the waves. He managed to eke out a trade with Drangiana, still loyal to the Seleucids, a powerful, yet scattered empire. However, the trade took money from his own coffers. The diplomat insisted upon the gold. He knew that Himyar's people would not survive without naval commerce, and he exploited it. When the diplomat left, he had one thousand extra coins in his pocket. Coins that did not belong to him, but were taken from a desperate kingdom, whose own military couldn't protect them from the savage Sabeans, who constantly loomed as a great threat near his borders.

But that was all subject to change.

In the last couple of months, Syphax had worked hard, relaying orders with his network of servants throughout the city that his people inhabited. Soon, the city revived itself in a motion of activity, as Syphax funded the building of the first infantry camp that their land had seen in ages. He knew that peace would not last. He was surrounded by Saba, and Ma'in, powerful nations in their own regard, who would show him no mercy. But he never expected mercy. He had polished up his diplomatic skills, and was renowned as impartial by his people when he judged, yet he lacked one thing. A true army. His entourage at the moment was pitiful. A small encampment filled with levied farmers with glorified sticks, some slingers, and a detachment of camel riders. This would not do. The infantry camp would allow for his people to finally get a foothold, and start fighting.

War was inevitable, but he knew he must get the preemptive strike on the Sabeans.

"Yes, my lord, a spice market. The Sabeans do not appear to be prepared for war. Instead, they carouse in their halls, reveling in their foolishness as if they are drunkards! Their King is even more foolish, and neglects his military, his entourage is the same as yours Lord, yet somehow more pitiful with their ignorance!" Jugurtha's report was both relieving and infuriating. On the one hand, the assassin was able to report these events to him. On the other, he was wounded, and could not operate for a short time. Even now, the stab wound was evident, though it was only a mark on his side. "Could you believe that the drunk guard tried to stab me?" Jugurtha spat out his words, his shame and disappointment over the matter showing. Syphax raised his hand, to silence him before he could speak further, "You have done well." _Except you have not. In your wounds I find my own disappointment. If you cannot redeem yourself, then I will find another who will not waste my coffers on foolish missions._ After Jugurtha left, Syphax massaged his temples, how hard was it to stay out of trouble? And yet he was injured on his first mission! It was truly pitiful.

"Patience." Speaking out, his friend tried soothing the king's nerves, "All men have troubled starts, my lord." Exasperated, Syphax lashed out, "And yet, Amanikhabale, the first mission?" Amanikhabale was a young man of seventeen years of age, whose young face radiated with ambition. While young, he was cunning, and was in part the reason for why they were able to trade with Drangiana in the first place, after marrying a prestigious merchant's daughter from the area. It was obviously not of love, as she berated him every other second, and was insistent on having her way. He was a shrewd man, but was also passionate and utilized his silver tongue for the good of the kingdom. The day Syphax has called for the building of an infantry camp; Amanikhabale pounced upon the opportunity, raising the taxes with a fiery speech on how, "With your help, our tyrannical neighbors to the north shall finally be put to the sword! Your children and family safe from them forever! All we ask of is blood! All we ask of is dignity, honor, and bravery of our men! Can you do that!?" Riling up the crowd, Syphax estimated it would only be a few more months before the Infantry Tent was finally constructed. Of course, he was also wary. While Amanikhabale did not know it himself, Syphax's enemies were always looking for a way to undermine him, and Amanikhabale's silver tongue might just be what they needed.

"Are you satisfied only with this? Does this military seem impressive to you? Let me ask you, what is the price of freedom, what is the price of your loved one's life!? You ask me to remit the taxes, yet, I must ask, are you content with this? Are you content with a meager camp, waiting for our enemies to raid us? You ask me, 'Why must we build? We are not even at war!' Yet, even us, who are at peace, should prepare for war. Just yesterday, I had a terrible vision, of men screaming, charging into our glorious city, burning down your houses, killing your children, our defenders valiant to the last. Finally, I saw our king, kneeling down in surrender as the merciless Sabean king decapitates him. Once more, I ask, are you satisfied? Or are you angry? Come then, our work is not finished! The fields are white with grain, yet there are no harvesters! Let us continue, and let us conquer! Let us go forth, and bring glory to us, our king, and his glorious kingdom!" Such speeches were made every month or so now, ever since the infantry camp was built. The infantry camp was a huge disappointment for Syphax. The only supplies they could eke out were javelins. While deadly in their own right, the javelins were not the answer to their problem. However, Amanikhabale had found another solution. By turning the surrounding tents around the infantry camp as a military headquarters, they could expand the camp and gather more supplies, enough for them to field a massive military, and a vast array of equipment. Blacksmiths were only slightly affected by the infantry camp, as javelins only required an iron head, yet, in just a year or so, they would have a new military, one capable of standing up to even Egypt or the Seleucids!

"They're warring!? D-n Ma'in! D-n Mascat!" In a furious rage, the king grabbed the servant, and begun shaking him, "Where did you learn this!?" The servant, frightened for his life, hastily replied, "Jugurtha sir! He recovered and went scouting again, and this time he found that the Sabeans were making huge overhauls to their defenses, he wasn't even allowed in! They're preparing for war too sir, and they have a bigger army than us…." The king smiled, paused, and put the servant down. "I see." The servant was frightened again, this time by the sudden change of the king's demeanor, "Sir?" The king started laughing, "Finally! The Sabeans have a bigger army than us; they will not see us as a threat. When the time comes, and they move their main army out, Amanikhabale can move his forces out, and take the city, starve it if he has to!" The king settled down, and sat down in his chair, finally, good news. Initially, he was skeptical about rumors of war between Saba and their neighbors, but now it seemed as if they had come true. The arrogant Sabeans had underestimated their neighbor's pride, and no doubt their diplomat's sharp tongue infuriated Mascat and Ma'in! While Himyar's military might was not absolute, he knew that with the aid of coin and mercenaries, they could take over Saba.

"You're late." The king was standing up, straight, and arms crossed. His eyes scanned the face of his friend, as if trying to extract the truth from them. "In the interest of the building of our new infantry tents, I have went out and offered a gift to Mascat, of gold." The king suddenly seemed to spring to life, "You did what? Mascat diplomats are notoriously greedy; they'll keep on dogging you for money now. Why did you do that? You know that Drangiana disproves of them, and I wish to stay on good terms with them." Amanikhabale stood there, still smiling in the face of the king's confusion, "My liege, while you may scoff at their diplomats, do not scoff at their soldiers, Mascat's armaments are fine, and I have seen them myself when my father visited there for a trade arrangement. That gold was not given for nothing, no, the diplomats gave me a copy of the Mascat marauder combat equipment, which I'm sure our blacksmiths can reproduce, putting our own touch on it, of course." The king frowned, "We could have easily requested designs from Drangiana." Amanikhabale frowned as well at that, "With all due respect, if we were to rely entirely upon them we would be undone. We must think of other allies. Rely too much on one nation, and they will know it. They will pounce upon us, and tear at our throats with sharp teeth, like lions. I still feel the weight of the gold you gave Drangiana when I pass the streets and I hear our people's children cry."

The king hesitated, then nodded, "Very well, arrange for the blacksmiths to reproduce the marauder's armament. We'll need them for our war with Saba." Amanikhabale nodded, then added, "They know of Jugurtha's presence. He's not very subtle. I fear what may come next." Without waiting for a response, Amanikhabale left the tent.

It was night, and it was quiet. The only sound was the sound of a shifting guard's foot, as he watched over the darkness and the night. He was guarding a tent, the tent of a new Sabean noble, Arimyar, who had been commissioned by their king to raise a new army by any means necessary. Suddenly, a disturbance appeared in the darkness as a drunken man stumbled forward, obviously oblivious to his surroundings. "Halt. Citizen, allow me to escort you away, our Lord Arimyar is currently busy." The guard was stern, and signaled for another guard to take his place while he escorted the drunken man away. The drunk man's mind, however, was not inebriated at all. Jugurtha had hidden from the king, failing to answer summons to his tent. He was ashamed. He had failed, and he had been wounded. But now, he had his chance to redeem himself. As they walked away, as the dark sands swallowed them, a flash in the moonlight was the only warning the guard had before he was silenced permanently.

Taking his uniform, and his armament, he went back to the tent. However, he already knew that there was a new guard, he heard him call for a replacement. Shrouding his face in his turban, he proceeded forward.

"Drunken sod still out there?" The guard was tired, and evidently wanted him to continue guarding the tent so he could sleep. He only nodded, his voice would give him away, and the guard sleepily nodded his assent as he stumbled back into his company's tent. Inside, Arimyar was busy discussing terms for recruiting mercenaries. The mercenary captain in question was small, and cautious, but well known for honor. If he mysteriously showed up dead in Sabean territory, they would have less success with mercenary contracts in the future. However, new mercenaries would show up, as gold is a powerful force. No, he didn't want the mercenary captain to die.

Jugurtha's real target was Arimyar himself. If he could at least kill HIM, then he would be redeemed! He must be redeemed, even if it kills him. He refused to live without his honor.

_ "Aye, your father will be out for a while, our king has commissioned for a new defensive force to guard our borders. As you know, Ma'in and Mascat have declared war upon us, and lurk around our borders as hungry sharks." Smiling softly, he tousled his daughter's hair. "Fajr, I will only be patrolling around the city, and I will be dealing with an honorable man. No harm will come to me." His daughter was seven, but she still felt danger in the air, "Father, do you not worry about assassins from other nations? While we are currently at peace with Himyar, mother said that you should be careful. Ma'in and Mascat have the money to afford assassins. Contemplating these words, Arimyar's smile broke out again, "Worry not, little one, I will be fine. I have my own contingent of guards to guard my tent, and they are loyal to the last. If they wanted me dead, I would be in the sand, and I would have never had you, Fajr." Glancing up at her father one last time, the young girl wondered if her father was telling the truth. Or if this truth would weaken him to a greater threat._

Dropping his spear and shield to signify that he had no weapons, Jugurtha entered the tent. "Sir, with all due respect, may I request a bite to remain conscious? This duty is killing me, and I wouldn't mind a cut to my pay." Arimyar smiled, and beckoned him forward. He was a friendly, open man, with a wife and three daughters. His only aim was to end Saba's wars, so that they could peacefully exist as a trading kingdom. Already, he tried to send diplomats to Himyar, yet they never returned. He never learned that Jugurtha had killed and robbed them. "Come in, friend! Worry not about the fruit, nor the pay, we are all brothers here, who wish to end this horrible spectacle called war!" The mercenary captain, on the other hand, was not so convivial, and had a hand on his saber. He was wary of assassins, but Arimyar held up his hand, "I have known these men for many years, and while I must confess I do not know them all individually, I am indebted to them." The assassin smiled, "My thanks, my liege." Settling down, Jugurtha picked up a small grape, and plucked it into his mouth, the fruit popping at the same time his hand reached into his shroud.

Alarmed, the mercenary captain shouted and grabbed for his sword, only to be laughed at by Arimyar jovially as Jugurtha pulled out a small scroll. Acting surprised, Jugurtha inquired if he didn't know that soldiers could read as well, given proper training. Relaxing, the mercenary captain sheathed his sword. At the same time, Jugurtha sprung, quickly shaking the scroll, a thin dagger fell from the inside, and he threw the dagger at the captain's throat before he could draw his saber. Gasping in surprise, the captain clawed at his own neck, causing more blood to gush out as he fell. Arimyar, alarmed, fell back; he had tears in his eyes. "Harm me if you must, but please, do not kill me brother! I will swear off the warpath forever, I swear, just please, do not kill me!" As his eyes conveyed the terror of a caught animal, his mind was racing. "I-I…Spare me for my wife! Spare me for my children!" Jugurtha sneered down at the man, he was weak. He was foolish, and he actually believed that he wouldn't kill him. Jugurtha calmly walked to the mercenary captain and pulled his dagger out, a spurt of blood following it. As he walked back to Arimyar, he pulled the dagger up slowly, tormenting the man with visions of his own death. "I…I…." But he already knew it, when he saw Jugurtha's true face, he saw no man, no friend, no brother, but a monster. "…" _Nimat, Nuha, Shakila, Fajr. I'm sorry. Your father was a foolish man. I love you all._ The blade descended, taking another life that silent night.

"Congratulations, Jugurtha, you have reclaimed your honor by killing this foe of ours!" Gathering up the jubilant spy in a bear hug, Amanikhabale welcomed him with a smiling face, "Go, tell the king! You must let him know that you can be trusted now!" The assassin, puffed with pride, walked to the king's tent, and was admitted respectfully by the guards, and bowed before Syphax. "Well done. You have redeemed yourself, with the blood of this most certainly violent man." The assassin bowed before him, before racing out; he had another mission to do, and he would keep on wounding, keep on failing, and keep on going, as long as he could please the king and live with his honor and reputation.

"Aye, it was a success! The Mascat diplomats were surprised we could recreate it so effectively! They were stunned!" Amanikhabale once more spoke fast, excitedly chatting about their new units of marauders, trained from the Himyarian people. "Yes, yes, they are all well trained and have decent equipment. Now that Jugurtha has disrupted their mercenary contracts, we can start moving your forces into the Sabean lands. Hopefully, we can expand into their territories, and indoctrinate their military into ours, and create a foothold for further expansion." Gravely, he looked into Amanikhabale's eyes, "Never forget this, every victory is a defeat to another, and Arimyar's death will no doubt spark rage against us."

In Marib, a widow was weeping. Saba's provincial capital was the home to the wailing of men, women, and children. Friend to all, enemy to none, Arimyar had been assassinated. Fajr was speechless, and screeched in refusal, diving into their family's tent, and tried to kill herself. Shakila and Nuha had to restrain her. Arimyar's wife, Nimat, was a dark skinned woman of fierce temperament, who had initially married Arimyar only for her father's benefit, who had been an influential merchant. But his kindness eventually won through, and they had lived a good three years in harmony, raising up their beautiful children. But now, the light in her life had gone out. War strikes all.

"Aye, our military is shaping up fine. With the marauders, we are also training spearmen within our own walls, and we hope to eventually utilize them to their fullest for the cavalry that the other Arabian kingdoms are undoubtedly establishing. We ourselves must establish a cavalry force at a later time, my liege." Aristenyesbokhe was nineteen, and a powerful figure. Now a year younger than Amanikhabale, the young noble was arrogant, and a glutton, shown in his fat belly, and his short hair seemed to Syphax to be constantly soaked in wine. He was supported by a low number of nobles, but those that did often led him to being able to contact noble trained swordsmen, or other such troops no doubt invaluable to their takeover of Saba. "Jugurtha has indeed confirmed that Saba is building a military stable, yet we have no spear units other than locally trained units to counteract them." The king himself was trying to get around this issue, with a lack of cavalry; their army lacked the speed advantage the Sabeans now help over them. "Ah, but Syphax, you neglect the other key component. Skirmishers, and I would not be wrong in surmising you only have six of them. Worry not; I will get together a group of skirmishers trained by my father. He has been preparing for the conquest of Saba all his life, can you believe that?" Syphax actually could believe that, given how Aristenyesbokhe's father lost his wife to Sabean raiders. "Very well, carry on with recruitment of forces, war is coming, and we will bring it to them, we will not wait for them to strike." The young noble lazily saluted, "Aye."

Jugurtha wasn't completely honest with his mission's report, and he omitted a detail. While he was able to stop a Sabean noble named Gauda from recruiting men for the Sabean cause, Gauda was much more cautious than Arimyar, and had a three man guard to the entrance of the tent. He had to resort to poison in his drink, which couldn't kill him, but it only wounded him. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to report merely on wounding people. He wanted to kill him. He wanted praise for eliminating Himyar's rivals and foes, not mild appreciation for briefly disrupting them. He wanted the joy he felt when he murdered Arimyar, who begged for his life so pathetically.

"Dry summer, eh?" No matter what Syphax did, he could never drown out Amanikhabale's banter, which threatened to consume his mind with thoughts of suicide. "Yes, luckily our crops are imported. We have no threat of starvation from the lack of rains, considering how we live in these unfavorable lands." Aristenyesbokhe was gone, presumably to hire more skirmishers for their army to counter the growing cavalry threat. Jugurtha was, as usual, missing; he could never tell where the assassin went. Amanikhabale frowned solemnly, "Yet it was not always like this. Times past, we would grow our crops, and they would flourish in our city. Your father was a man who loved agriculture, and who loved the thought of food for all of his people. He was a kind man, and it is a shame he had died." Syphax nodded, the memory of his father's death used to haunt him, but now it is only a solemn reminder to his legacy. Himyar had adored his father, and they expected Syphax to expand the kingdom, and lead them to glory. Syphax was ready to do this, but he had another thought plaguing his mind. His heir. He had discovered that he was sterile. He could not have offspring, and he was his father's only surviving male heir. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair as he thought of his next move. Adoption seemed obvious, but it was clear that Amanikhabale would refuse; he was deeply loyal to his own father. And the thought of appointing Aristenyesbokhe as the heir of the Himyarite kingdom appalled him. His mind straying, he thought of his assassin, no doubt, Jugurtha was having luck in his next mission.

Jugurtha's next contract. This time, he wanted a kill, not just a wound. Entering the city under the disguise that the guard from that night had been so generous to lend, the assassin crept in, and started casually walking about, acting as a guard. However, out of the corner of her eye, one woman caught that the guard was off. "Um! Excuse me sir, could you please direct me to where the spice market is? I haven't been there in a while; I've had to tend to my children." The assassin frowned, more annoyed than anything; he had scouted the city before, he knew where the spice market was. Silently, he pointed eastward. Immediately, the woman's face took on an odd look, as if she was scanning him. Uncertain, he reflexively took a step back. Jugurtha never knew that the Sabeans moved their spike market north in order to keep it more centralized, and to make room for the stables. Swiftly, the woman revealed a dagger in the arm of her dress, and attempted to stab Jugurtha, who nimbly leapt away and raced out of the city. Before he could run, however, the woman ripped the veil from his head, revealing his face. "That's the man! Guards, catch him, if you can't remember that face! That is the face of the Himyarian assassin! That is the face of the man who killed my husband, Arimyar!"

As he ran, the name struck. Arimyar. His first kill. His mind racing, he put two and two together; Arimyar's wife, Nimat, just tried to kill him. So occupied with his thoughts, he never saw the guard's spear crash down into his temple. Apparently dead, the guard turned for a split second, and Jugurtha sank a dagger into the guard's foot while he was occupied, and slipped away in the confusion as a crowd of people gathered around. He was wounded, humiliated, and his assassinations would be much harder now, since they now knew what he looked like. As he ran, he looked back once, and saw the same woman. She was glaring at him, holding a young girl close to her, Fajr. At that moment, Jugurtha swore revenge, and he swore to his honor that the woman and her children would die.

Author's Note: Thanks for taking the time to read this! I'll be recording the events of ten turns every now and then, so I hope you guys are ready! Unfortunately it's a bit slow right now, as I can't attack Saba yet without them murdering me L, hopefully soon I can show you guys some action, so for now I hope you'll accept the trials of Jugurtha, my zealous assassin!

Ah yes, before I forget, I'm using the Politics overhaul mod, along with the Kaziels Roman Pack, TTT Radious Mod Pack, Playable Factions Mod, Ancient Sea Empires Unit Pack, Ancient Splendor Unit Pack, AUM Rome Mod Pack, Dresden's Sack, Liberation, and Diplomatic Options, Pergamonium Radious Pack, Radious Total War Mod, Radious TWH pack, and the Client States and Satrapies Will Like you Maybe mod! Himyar's a bit of a tough start, as they only get decent melee at the third tier military building, and so I've had to cut down on the battles I wanted to write for this chapter. Sorry guys, but, thank you once again for reading this, please leave a review if you think I need to change anything or add anything, also things I need to fix, as it's my first fan fiction!

For those of you curious, Himyar's faction bonuses and culture bonuses go as follow:

Arabian Kingdoms: Desert Warriors: +10% morale for all units fighting in the desert

Arabian Trade Heritage: +10% wealth from all commerce

Himyar: Roman and Iranian Relations: Judaism neutrality gives it a major diplomatic boost with all Latin and Eastern factions.

Incense, Spice, and Ivory Exports: +20% wealth for all manufacturing and sea trade.

Pagan Arab Backlash: Due to Himyarite Judaism neutrality, substantial diplomatic penalty with all other Arabian factions.

Now, there are some rules I adhere to, if you're interested in reading them:

I can only recruit units that are either not unique, or gained from a 'unit agreement' I get from another faction, or fancy for me saying giving them two sums of money. I cannot get a unit agreement for factions that are in the red, though I can for the yellow, green only needs one sum of money for their units. For example, the Maas Gat Marauders were from Mascat, so I paid them two sums, but Nabataea, which I think is in the red, would not sell them to me, which means to get them I have to pay them A LOT to get them in yellow, or I have to conquer their areas to get access to their troops. Which I really want, because two generals are Nabataean units. All Household members/items must be obtained by the general before they can use them, so I can't just transfer households willy nilly, to be able to 'give' one household member/item away to another character, they must be near each other on the campaign map.

For everyone interested in the game information, here's my current game info: I hold Eudaemon in Arabia Felix, my settlement's buildings are:

Trade Settlement: +2 public order, +2 growth, 80 wealth from subsistence, 120 wealth from local commerce, and +2% wealth from all sources

Provides garrison of: 2 Levy Spearmen, 6 Levy Skirmishers, 1 Tribes People, and unlocks the recruitment of slingers

Harbour: 80 wealth from local commerce, 130 wealth from maritime commerce

Provides garrison of: 2 Raiding Hemiolia, Tribes People, unlocks recruitment of Pursuit Trihemiolia, Tribes People

Infantry Tents:

Provides garrison of: 4 Levy Spearmen, and 3 Levy Skirmishers. Unlocks recruitment of Maas Gat Marauders, Qidria's Swords, Noble Swordsmen, Arabian Light Spearmen, Qidrian Light Spearmen, Indo-Kush Spearmen, Indo-Kush Swordsmen, Tabriz Peltasts, Kardakes Sparabaras, Kardakes Swordsmen, Citizen Spearmen, East Coast Levies, Desert Spearmen, Desert Swordsmen, Levy Peltasts, and Arabian Light Infantry

My armies currently consist of Amanikhabale's Heralds of Allatu, who consist of:

Amanikhabale: Armoured Camel Riders

Ten Maas Gat Marauder Units

Two Citizen Spearmen Units

One Levy Spearmen Unit

Four Levy Skirmisher Units

One Camel Spearmen Unit

And One Slinger unit

Syphax is just governing the city; he has no army other than his bodyguard, which is a unit of Noble Swordsmen.

Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun consists of:

Aristenyesbokhe: Noble Swordsmen

Two Noble Swordsmen Units

Five Levy Peltast Units


	2. Red Sands

A King's Vision

Chapter Two: Red Sands

"Hold!" Amanikhabale was much less friendly, and much grimmer. At his flank, his army marched. They surrounded the city, and made sure no supplies would get in. There was no doubt about what they were going to do. The smell of acrid smoke from the fires his men lit around the countryside told him what he was going to do. He only prayed that their king would be sensible and surrender. Their objective was not to siege Marib. No, that was only a side thought. The real target was a Sabean noble, who had tried to muster new men. They could not allow this. Amanikhabale laid siege to Marib, hoping that their king would surrender. But he knew that was unlikely. Their king was a foolish man, who would try to sacrifice his own people for his safety. But Amanikhabale knew that without reinforcements, sooner or later, Marib would fall. He didn't have sufficient manpower yet, but he knew that he had to stop the noble from recruiting more men. He was alone at the time. This is where Aristenyesbokhe comes into play.

"Aye sir, he cannot run anymore. He has halted, and it seems he intends to fight us." The last words mocked the enemy noble, as the peltast seemed to disbelieve the enemy. "Do they truly believe they can break our will and escape?" The small army of Aristenyesbokhe had no cavalry, but he had no need of them. The enemy noble preferred foot combat, and had no horse at the time, they were able to trap him in, and, threatened with death in combat or death by the desert heat, the noble finally stopped his bodyguard unit and turned to meet his men. They vastly outnumbered him, with three noble sword units, along with five units of levied peltasts, the man was doomed.

When they finally caught up, Aristenyesbokhe gawked at the bodyguard unit. They were fully clad in bronze scale, and some had iron masks covering their features. Their capes were green, and their helmets of silver. Their shields, wicker, yet their swords were straight, and wicked. Compared to the Himyarian Noble Swordsmen, whose swords were shorter, and who wore only scale mail, the nobles of the Sabeans seemed to outmatch them. However, the Himyarian nobles had a major advantage, their shields. Their shields were bronze, and they were constructed to be similar to the Greek aspis shield, round and powerful. Not only that, but their peltasts would reduce their numbers.

Looking at his men, Aristenyesbokhe decided to give a speech, taunting the enemy within it, "Look at our enemy, men! This is why the Sabeans fail to ambush our men! Their capes are green, and are much more suited for trees than our vast desert! Look upon their arrogant faces, some hide them, in shame of their deeds! Let us, then, show them the folly of their ways! Let us show them true men, true steel, and true strength! Make ready! Attack!"

Charging ahead, the levied peltasts charged forward, their light leather clothing allowing them far greater mobility than the nobles, whom they left behind. They were eager to fight, and eager to hear shrieks of terror from the enemy when their javelins pierced their weak hearts.

Amanikhalika was no fool. There was no way of surviving this encounter. Cut off by the army of Amanikhabale, he was trapped, and he could not run. But he would not die as Arimyar, killed by those dishonorable curs, who waited to cause war just to kill him! But he would die as a soldier, a warrior, and a noble to the last. He only wished that he knew. Some mercenaries would be priceless here, but he had no time. The lords he had sent to gather troops did not return, and wouldn't after hearing of his death. "Stay strong. The enemy approaches! They come, like a horde of locusts, devouring everything within their path! Remember, the death of valiant Arimyar, slain by a dishonorable assassin! Remember, we will not live this battle, but we will crush their spirits! We will show them our steel, and we will kill every single last one of them that we can before their cowardice stabs us in the back!" Roaring with anger, his men surged forth as the peltasts began their first wave. Already, three of his men were pelted with javelins, and more peltasts started moving in from the side; they were going to fire at them in the back! Roaring in anger, Amanikhalika grabbed his sword, and jammed it into the side of a peltast whose unit commander had gotten cocky, hoping to break his men's morale with a frontal charge. It only fueled to make Amanikhalika's men laugh, and made them fight even more zealously, as they were determined to end the lives of these arrogant skirmishers, who wore little armor to protect themselves.

However, it was soon apparent that it was a trap. No sooner had he dislodged his blade from his foe, when the high quality noble swordsmen crashed into his troops, initiating a bloody melee. At that moment, javelins flew from the sides, killing his men like flies in a storm, unable to combat their cowardly opponents. Slowly but surely, his men died, as he saw his comrades die at the hands of the enemy. The Himyarian nobles used their shields to their advantage, bashing his men, and then slashing them when down. Their wicker shields were no mach for the aspis replica, and it showed. However, he knew that each unit had a unit commander, and he was dedicated to killing him. Seeing the telltale sign of silver scale instead of their traditional bronze scale, he leapt into action, and charged forward, yelling furiously. All around him, his men were killed, killed by the shield, the sword, or the javelins that rained upon them. The noble commander was caught off guard, and Amanikhalika bore upon him with vengeance. However, the commander merely smiled, and Amanikhalika's life ended in the rain of three javelins lodged in his heart.

"M-Mercy! Mercy!" They had already stripped the nobles of their armor, and their swords, even their shields. Aristenyesbokhe was impatient, "Where did you get these armaments!?" The man looked fearfully up at him; three minutes ago his comrades were all killed as they fled, javelins relentlessly pursuing them, "S-sir, I do not know!" Aristenyesbokhe's shield was iron, and had a spike in the center, which he promptly used to jam into the leg of the prisoner, "Liar! Tell me, who supplied you with these armaments?! I swear to God I will kill your family and raze your city to the ground!" The man screeched out, "Nabatea sir! Nabatean merchants sold us their armors and weapons! The allies of Egypt!" Aristenyesbokhe paused. He had heard enough, and yelled, "You dare betray your own people!?" The man shrunk away, this time in disbelief, "I-I…" Aristenyesbokhe once more plunged his shield at the man, who received the blow to his neck, and was forever silenced. Wiping the blood off of his shield, he kicked sand over the blood, "The sands should not be disgraced with the lifeblood of this dishonorable cur, who betrays his own people. As such, I will tell this to all of you. Live with me, and we shall be prosperous, and kill many foes. Betray me, and your grave will be set in the sands until your ancestors can no longer remember your name!" His men were silent. Many were glad and roared approval, chanting his name to the stars.

"Up front, here is your payment. You will be in service to me for several months, or for as long as I need you. I trust these are acceptable terms?" Aristenyesbokhe was discussing terms, as he was want to do, but his arrogant nature always managed to grate on the nerves of people. The mercenary captain frowned, and took a look at the scroll, "Yes, these are acceptable. I assume you will be using us to aid your defense of the area around Marib? I saw Amanikhabale's army move to siege the city. It only makes sense that you pay us extra." The noble's eyes narrowed, "Why? Should I seek for another company?" The mercenary captain's eyes narrowed as well, staring straight into the noble's. "We are not fools. You will use us as the first fighters, because you would not want to sacrifice your own men. Do not lie to me, Himyarian, and do not believe your kingdom innocent. Jugurtha killed a neutral mercenary in Arimyar's tent, and I demand money for that man's life." Crossing his arms, the mercenary impudently stared at the noble. The noble, in turn, gritted his teeth. He needed the mercenaries. With Amanikhabale alone, they would not be able to hold their position, and would be forced to retreat. But, this left Aristenyesbokhe alone, subject to the mercy of the Sabeans. He refused to resign himself to that fate, and so he forced a smile to his face, "Of course. My apologies." As he swallowed his pride, the noble constantly thought of ways to make the man pay for what he's done. The price was worth it however, and Aristenyesbokhe welcomed around three hundred cavalry and five hundred infantry into his ranks.

The next day, he welcomed one hundred more infantry, and 100 more cavalry into his ranks, the time was soon. He could hear the Sabeans. They were angry, they were starving, and they were zealous. Aristenyesbokhe smiled upon the display, happy that they would finally subdue the riotous Sabeans. He took pride in his heart at the shouts of Amanikhabale as he rallied his men, and he knew that soon, his men would taste blood.

"Yeah, we'll show those b-s what happen when you fight us!" The marauders were restless, and they were eager. They wanted to taste blood; they wanted to sink their armaments into their enemy flesh. They fully embraced the marauder's training, who had come from Mascat to teach the Himyarian marauders how the Maas Gat Marauders fought. They fought using any tactic possible, they were not afraid of dirtying their feet. But the main urge for young men in Himyar to become a marauder was the aftermath. Marauders in Mascat were free to loot any home they came upon, and claim any man, woman, or child as their slave. Outside of Marib, many marauders danced in circles, letting out war whoops to rival the barbarians, as the Sabeans stayed inside of their city, fearful and stricken with terror.

"Unacceptable! I shall not let your king mock me as he parades me in Eudaemon! I shall not let my people be assimilated into your filthy, dishonorable culture! You think to insult me, you dare spit upon my face, well, you and your men shall die! Every single last one of them! I will raise up a mighty army, and we will hear the wails of terror of your women as we enjoy them in front of their captured husbands! I will personally execute your pathetic king, who does not even don battle garb, and I will spit upon his corpse and piss on it, for all your honor is worth! You Roman dog! You Jewish serpent! Be gone, before I lose my temper and kill you!" The Himyarian diplomat scurried away; the offer to join Himyar peacefully has been rejected.

The Sabean king rose, and his tired eyes swept upon the faces of people rioting in the streets. How naïve. They believed that showing resistance would save them. But he and his men knew the truth. The marauders the Himyarian soldiers trained were based on the Mascat marauders, and he already knew what they have done to numerous villages! He will not accept the destruction of his people. But at the same time, the food was gone. Sooner or later, they would all starve to death. At that moment, the king knew what to do. "For glory and honor!" With those words, his men charged out, desperate to push back the invaders.

As he rallied his remaining troops, the king only then noticed the desperate situation. While the enemy fielded a troop of marauders, he was left with levied spearmen, most of whom had never seen a battle. Even so, their determination to save their city still shone through. Releasing a battle cry, the king led his forces to their final battle. He was confident; he outnumbered his enemy. He just forgot about an important detail. He forgot about Aristenyesbokhe's mercenaries.

"Many of you fight for glory. Some for gold. Some of you, most likely you really just like fighting!" Amanikhabale was known for his odd ramblings, even in the midst of combat he could complain or ramble about his soldiers. "This day is no different! Let us drive the enemy into retreat; there is no need to chase down beaten dogs!" He omitted his own personal fears. He wanted to personally occupy the city peacefully, but the marauders which he praised a few months ago seemed bloodthirsty. They wanted blood, and they swore that they would receive it. "Remember! We do this for our people; we do this for our families! Charge!" With his last word, the marauders whooped with pure joy as they charged at the advancing levied spearmen.

The fighting started with the stones. His slinger unit opened fire, raining down hard hitting stones upon the hapless enemy, condemned to bear their torture. Several spearmen were killed, being struck in the temple, or were crippled by a shot to the arms or legs. Finally, without being able to wait any longer, the marauders charged the spearmen, many of which were horrified, their mouths agape at the display of savagery of the marauders. The marauders wore armor similar to the linothorax, and wielded short but stout clubs in battle. These clubs were not meant to kill, but meant to break the shield, the spirit, and the men. Mercilessly, a marauder pulled a mercenary off of his camel, screaming, and struck the man in the temple multiple times. Ten meters away, a surrendering spearman was bashed mercilessly in the arms and legs by a marauder, but never in the face. The marauder seemed turned on by the pain, and screamed in absolute joy with every blow he dealt to his sobbing foe. One marauder stood out, namely because of his violence. This marauder was Mu'tamid, who had witnessed the death of his parents by Sabean mercenaries as a child. His zeal was unquestionable, and his ruthlessness legendary even within the marauders.

"For all men willing, and all brave souls, we offer you the chance to fight by our king's side, to bring glory to Himyar!" The recruiter was annoying. The food was annoying. The chatty man who made the ale was annoying. Nothing pleased him. Mu'tamid foggily glanced into the recruiter's eyes, uninterested. Of course, the recruiter then said these next words, "A special opportunity for all who join now, for loot, women, and drink!" He perked up at these words. He had never heard of one of Syphax's recruiters use women or drink as an incentive. He had only preached honor before, and of glory. But now, he saw new light, it seemed. It seems that the king….had finally come to his senses. Scrambling up from his seat, he bellowed. Cowed, the recruiter tried to run, but was caught by the towering man, "Sign me up! -hic- I'll show ALL of those Sabean camel lovers what a true warrior is!" Glancing at the scroll the recruiter held, he ripped it from his hands, and read the description of the Mascat Marauders. Smiling, he held the paper up for all of the patrons to see, "Look! Rejoice! We no longer fight for delusions of grandeur; we may now fight for our heart's content! Join me, and we shall conquer the world! Join me, and we shall destroy these flea ridden dogs who dare to LOOK in our direction! COME WITH ME, FIGHT WITH ME, AND KILL WITH ME!"

Mu'tamid yelled out in glee, bashing a spearman with his shield before caving in his skull with his club. Truly, he felt alive. Swinging around, he found a spearman left in the mercy of an allied citizen spearman. Goading him with his eyes, Mu'tamid urged him to kill his prisoner. The spearman refused, and so Mu'tamid did it for him. The blood still stuck to his club as he pulled it out, and he licked it, much to the disgust and shock of the citizen spearman. Smiling at him, he then pointed to the stars, "God has surely favored us."

The Sabean king was sweating visibly. As his bodyguard charged forward to protect him, he knew that he would not live this encounter. Charging, astride a glorious iron clad camel. Amanikhabale rode down the Sabean king, charged through his men, and slashed the king across the chest. Shrieking in pain, he went down, and clutched at his chest. Luckily for him, the cut was not deep. However, standing above him, he saw a powerful, tall man. Mu'tamid didn't even hesitate to smash the Sabean king's face in.

The Sabeans were losing badly, but their reinforcements came, their mercenary army had arrived. Cheering, the Sabeans waved their arms, beckoning their reinforcements to liberate them. However, it was then that they noticed something terrible. Amanikhalika's mercenary army was not theirs. Aristenyesbokhe had killed Amanikhalika, and had recruited the mercenaries to his side. The remaining Sabeans took one look at the camel riders, and ran, as they screamed, trying to reach their city gates. On the way, countless were swallowed by seas of marauders, who bashed them down and took them prisoner, most for use as slaves. The marauders would have many trophies. Mu'tamid cradled his trophy in his arms. The head of the Sabean king was the greatest prize of all.

Everything Amanikhabale had feared had come to life. Upon entering the city, the marauders went berserk. Instead of the peaceful occupation Amanikhabale wanted, instead he found himself in the midst of a bloodbath. The marauders gleefully looted, pillaged, and had their way among the proud city of Marib. In only eight hours time, the city was silent. They had their prisoners, and they carried heads as trophies.

In one tent, a woman lay there, clutching her children, as she thought of the end. She heard something, a quiet whisper, a shadow in the night. Emerging, terrible and vengeful, Jugurtha came to fulfill his vow. Taking up her husbands sword, she glared at him. However, instead of putting up a blade in self defense, the assassin merely smiled, and walked away. Perturbed by his nature, she went to find her children. It teared her heart to know what Fajr ran away, but at least she knew she would be spared from this carnage that would befall her and her remaining children.

The last grain storage in their tent was dwindling down. At the very least, they would eat before the marauders came and murdered her, and enslaved her children. She allowed her children all of the food. She owed it to them, for failing them. Pressing a hand to her face, Nimat sobbed softly as her children ate in silence. This was to be their last meal. But, it was in a way that shocked the poor, tormented mother. Her children started screaming, and they choked. Rushing to them, she tried to assess what had happened, when she remembered the assassins smile. Widening her eyes, she came to a realization; the assassin had poisoned the grain storage and her children.

Howling in a vengeful rage, the woman gathered up her children, sobbing as they each slowly died. Nimat lost everything, in just a year. Her proud, sweet husband, her beautiful children, and her own strong spirit. But, there was one last thing to do. Her defiant act, which would inspire lyrics among the Sabean slaves for years to come. Enraged, she tore out into the streets with her husbands saber, and slew three marauders before she was captured, and even then fought on, cursing at the Himyarian soldiers and beat at them with her fists, until finally a tall man emerged from the crowd.

Mu'tamid wasted no time, as his club drove into Nimat's face. Somehow still alive, she reached for the dagger in her dress, and in a blind fury stabbed at the marauder's stomach. He simply dodged, and with a chilling, hyena like laugh, swung his club into her arm. Then her other arm, then her leg, then her other leg. After he finished, the woman was nothing more than a bruised puppet to him, a broken doll.

Seeing her lips move, he smiled and moved in to hear her last words. When he leaned in, Nimat's final act, to this abomination of a man who slew her people, was to roll a tooth that had broken in his violent assault, and spit it at him with such force that it lodged in Mu'tamid's eye. Howling with rage, he cracked his club upon the woman's chin, leaving her in the city streets to bleed out to death.

"You are all disbanded." Aristenyesbokhe was wearing a triumphant smile. The mercenary captain was enraged, "You kill our men by having them at the forefront, you pay us for only three seasons, and you discharge us the day before our next pay? You rotten bastard!" Ignoring the incensed mercenary, Aristenyesbokhe reveled in the glory of the sacked city of Marib. At the same time, Amanikhabale was soaking in the terror of what he'd accidentally wrought.

This is glorious.

This is terrible.

It had been nine months since they had taken Marib. Amanikhabale made full use of the cavalry stables, and included his own design for armor and weaponry, dubbing the new troops, 'Himyar Cavalry'. He established these men to become the new standard for the rejuvenated kingdom, which had doubled in size since they took Marib. The people sing his praise, and Syphax had permitted the formation of his cavalry. The cavalry would be forever known as "Amanikhabale's Knights", though none were produced yet, the anticipation was there. Disgusted with the marauder's behavior, he disbanded all of them, yet was shocked when he learned that Aristenyesbokhe had embraced every single one of them, and indoctrinated the experienced and brutal killers into his own army. He feared for whom they went to war with next, as the marauders now had a commander who relished in bloodshed.

"We will burn your cities, we will take your settlements, and we will relish in the smoke." The message was delivered by the Ma'in diplomat, though Syphax already knew this was coming. War with Ma'in was inevitable. Syphax nonchalantly waved the diplomat away. He already planned for this eventuality. "Karkamani." The name sent a chill through the Ma'in diplomat, "Do you plan to assassinate me?! Why do you call upon a name as you would call for an assassin, or a sword?" Syphax ignored him. "Answer me! I am the prestigious messenger of the kingdom of Ma'in! Answer me or I will have your cities burnt!" Syphax continued to ignore him. "I-" The diplomat had only two seconds to say his next words, as his own escort turned and promptly stabbed him. His eyes bugged out, and his mouth hung open as he doubled over on the ground and bled to his death. Syphax smiled, "Well done, Karkamani. Your service will indeed be useful." The sage bowed before the king, humbled by the compliment, "I thank you, my liege. I will serve the best as I can."

"Advance! Root them out!" The war cry prompted a massed shout from the marauders, eager to be fighting, only months after they had pillaged Marib. They were eager for more combat, and Aristenyesbokhe was only too happy to oblige.

They were hiding, as always, and they were afraid. Afraid for their lives, for their escape, for their children. Starting to finally relax, the leader of the congregation passed around a single pot full of grain, their only food source. The Sabean leader shakily poured out some for himself as he passed it along the group of fifty men, women, and children.

Pakheme was the celebrated war hero of Ma'in, who had raided Sabean lands and liberated his people from a siege on their city. He was the man whom Ma'in thought would crush Himyar. He was the man who was arrogant, and let his guard down. "Attack!" Converging onto the rocky outcropping like cultures, his bodyguard tore the meager goatskin covering the hole, and stormed the tiny encampment. A man shouted in surprise, and everyone in the congregation put their hands up in surrender, signifying they had no weapons. Proud, Pakheme ordered for all to be put before him, to be killed. He was alone, save his loyal bodyguard, who protected Pakheme from childhood. He would never betray Pakheme. But never is a word that is subjective, after all, what truly judges a man's character is not in his actions, but in his heart, where all true intentions lay.

Turning in pride, Pakheme was about to order his death when his most trusted bodyguard thrusted his sword into his general. Gasping in shock, Pakheme doubled over, grasping the sword, blood running from his hand as it cut into his flesh. He couldn't talk; but merely looked at him, as if asking, "…Why…?" The man gave no answer, and the general was ingloriously assassinated. In a fearful rush, the Sabean leader rushed outside, only to be greeted by a cadre of three cloaked men. Karkamani's assassins had come to finish the job. In a panic, the Sabean leader rushed back, and put his arms up, as if to shield the last remnants of his people from this inglorious fate.

Wailing in a panic, a small girl in the back of the congregation couldn't take it any longer. She had her father killed, then her mother, then her sisters. Sobbing in a helpless anger, she started cursing out the assassins. Enraged, one of the men rose his sword in anger, only to be stopped by the arm of another assassin. Silently, the more professional one pointed backwards. The sight of the man clad in white scared many of the Sabeans. Diplomats never made fair arrangements. The man was pale for his race, and lanky. His build wasn't impressive at all, and gray hairs showed in his dark hair denoting his age. Smiling, Karkamani beckoned with his hand outside of the area, then gathered up the assassins, and silently left.

Confused, the leader was the first to exit, and his eyes blinked several times, as if unable to comprehend what lay before him. Three large tubs of grain, two of water, and best of all, farming implements, as well as a stand covered by goat skins. Peering under the skins, the leader met the sight of a small, moist patch of dirt, rare in the desert, already laden with seeds. He shouted in joy, and turned to thank the man in white, but when he turned, he and his entourage had already disappeared into the desert.

In the wake of the loss of their general, Pakheme's army retreated back to their own territory. But they had stumbled straight into a trap. As in a dream, hundreds of warriors poured from the countryside, and Pakheme's disheartened army found themselves fighting Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun. Shouting orders, Pakheme's third in command advanced the troops onto a hillside they could easily defend, and left a force of mercenary cavalry to hide in the forest. Within minutes, the Warriors of the Sun arrived. Without a taunt or a jeer, the levy peltasts threw their payload at the enemy, killing ten men in one volley. Concerned, the Ma'in army charged, only to be slaughtered by the marauders. Scoffing at the ease of their victory, Mu'tamid spit on the corpse of an enemy. His left eye was gone, replaced by a purple fabric strapped around the vacant eye socket.

Arahkakatani was resting. He was the new commander of Pakheme's destroyed army, who had successfully evaded the Warriors of the Sun by running. They now tend a small, fortified area, but as always, they fear for their lives. Exhausted, Arahkakatani never saw the crazed assassin silently drop in from the wall. Alarmed, the guard on the wall was about to shout, before being silenced by an assailant from behind. Jugurtha has much to prove, and much to lose. Pakheme was a legend, it was only fitting that he, the veteran assassin, would kill him. But no! Instead, Karkamani killed him, stealing his glory and honor! He knew not what else Karkamani had up his sleeve, but he would not be outdone! Startled by the war cry Jugurtha let out after reaching him, Arahkakatani reached for his sword, only to be cut down. Jugurtha then raced back the way he came, running into the night as the soldiers discovered their general's unfortunate end. He was in command for a solid two days before Jugurtha killed him.

Unnerved by their general's death, his men tried to flee, and fled to a new place. Yet again, they were led straight into the Warriors of the Sun. Trying to flee, the remnants begged for mercy, before being cut down by the giant wave of marauders. They felt no joy in this battle. For their enemies were cowards. They savored the taste of blood, the taste of victory, and the taste of satisfaction, knowing that they killed worthy foes in the past. Yet, Ma'in offered no challenge as of yet. They were almost angry at the sage, Karkamani, for killing Pakheme, who knew what great battle they would have had, with Ma'in's war hero fighting them!

However, they soon found a sight that excited them, and surprised the general. Yathrib, the capital of Ma'in, was in full sight, and also in full sight, a full army of Ma'in infantry and fighters. The last vestige of their army in their full sight and Mu'tamid let out his cry, as the de facto leader of the marauders, "Do not let the flower kisser Amanikhabale seize this victory! Rush now! Take their lands! Pillage! KILL! MURDER! KILL! MURDER!" The chant started resonating within the marauders, and Aristenyesbokhe watched, amused. The marauders were crude, but easily manipulated and effective. Gathering the marauders, the cleared his throat, "We will fight, we are now outnumbered! Is this not what you were waiting for?! Is this glory yours, or will you let Amanikhabale take it?" The mention of their former general's name made the marauders howl in rage, and they stamped the ground, their fervor seeping into their marching. "Then, my friends, my people, ATTACK!"

Roaring their approval, they surged forward, the Ma'in general showing surprise. He had not expected an attack when they were right next to their city for reinforcements. Smirking, the general rallied his men, "Attack!" Roaring, his men surged forward, the mercenary cavalry charging into a rank of peltasts, killing many of them, before they were caught by the marauders, where they were swiftly pulled off of their horses and beaten to a bloody pulp. Aristenyesbokhe encouraged this; it allowed for the men to demoralize their enemy. Shocked by the bloody display, some of the cavalry hesitated; this was all that his peltasts needed, who fired a volley to avenge their fallen comrades, killing many of the horseback mercenaries.

Charging into him, a levied spear unit tried to quickly stab Aristenyesbokhe, where they were met by a group of marauders, who quickly slaughtered them, using their blood soaked clubs to make their new trophies. Many marauders had necklaces made of string and teeth, each tooth was a fallen enemy. Some had none, some had more, but Mu'tamid had twenty five teeth on his neck, a tribute to the woman who managed to put out his left eye. Joyous in the thrill of being outnumbered, he celebrated by crushing a man's head; another tooth to add to his collection.

The camel archers that Aristenyesbokhe had were invaluable; they were able to effectively kill and stay out of combat, and were quick. He estimated that one unit of them killed eighty men in a battle. However, it was clear to him that he had underestimated his enemy. The Ma'in main army had fielded a considerable number of cavalry, be they local or mercenary. Utilizing this to their fullest advantage, they danced from his marauders and crashed into them, causing innumerable deaths. But, nothing would change the inevitable. In less than an hour, the marauders broke the will of the levied spearmen, who ran crying out in fear. The cavalry, now with the marauders full, hate filled attention on them, tried to retreat, and succeeded, but only with heavy losses, as the camel archers chased them down and killed a great amount of their number.

Aristenyesbokhe watched as the general fled, joining his men as they retreated. But they left Yathrib undefended, in full sight of the angry marauders. Roaring in anger at the loss of their comrades, the marauders charged at the already weary garrison defenders, who had tried to reinforce the main army in their giant battle. The garrison consisted of mostly skirmishers, who fled at the sight of the marauders, and used hit and run tactics, however, each unit was run down by camel archers, and the men were able to settle down and look at their losses.

The results were sobering. They were down, from twenty units of men, to ten units. They were left with three noble swordsmen units, including Aristenyesbokhe, five marauder units, and two camel archer units. None of the peltast units were left, all were killed by cavalry or javelin. Looking upon his men, Aristenyesbokhe spoke, "Is it not terrible? This spectacle we call war..? Or is it glorious? Is war not the reason our ancestors smile upon us, for righting past wrongs, and is it not the reason our children and women can sleep at ease? Tell me, for I will reply that we are better men. I will reply that we have defeated these so called warriors, who fled their own city, and once we have taken it, disbanded, like a band of animals! I tell you, you will see greater things than just us taking this city! Lives will be lost! Mourn them! But prepare, and kill! For our enemy will not be as merciful, or as civil as us! Therefore, fight to the end, honor these brave soldiers who gave their lives, as those who die in combat will be immortalized!"

Finishing his speech, Aristenyesbokhe went to recoup his losses, while the remaining marauders compared their necklaces, trying to find out who killed the most, well, the most next to Mu'tamid. The man was absolutely covered in blood, and had a crazed smile upon his face. An absolute madman, who would fight to the last, no matter the odds. His brothers, who stood beside him, did not care for losses, nor did they care for their commander's speeches. They only let blood control them, as meat controls a savage animal. They do this, because they recognize that they have lost their honor. A man who has lost his honor and dignity has nothing more to lose, and none have recognized that more than Aristenyesbokhe.

In the coming months, Himyar would be approached by Nabatean emissaries wishing for a non aggression pact, and then straight afterwards break their pact! Their foolishness was not lost on Syphax, who had banned Nabatean emissaries from entering Himyar. Their relations with Qidri in the north were shaky, and the Gerrhaeans to the east were neutral, while Mascat remained strong. In the meantime, Syphax stopped trade with Drangiana in revenge for the gold that they had taken, and established trade with their enemies, the Arachosia.

Aristenyesbokhe had replenished a part of his army, and hired more camel archers, they were instrumental in his victory, and he felt a certain kinship with the camel riders now, and it was apparent in his recruitment methods he was interested in levying men who had experience on camelback or horseback. Amanikhabale, on the other hand, favored the horse, and his custom 'Himyar Cavalry' were finally done, and they rode upon majestic steeds. Syphax was still in Eudaemon, and continued to govern affairs of the state. Yet, one matter still gnawed at him, his political enemies. Even with enemies no longer directly threatening him, he still had to be aware of attempts on his life.

Luckily, he had managed to establish a true navy, with his younger brother Amani-bakhi leading them. Hopefully they would establish trade for Himyar. They must, for when Himyar is inevitably attacked, they will need supplies.

In the past year, he had conquered Marib and Yathrib, with Amanikhabale slaying the Sabeans and Aristenyesbokhe slaying the people of Ma'in. Both were powerful warriors, but Amanikhabale lost much less men. On the other hand, Aristenyesbokhe killed more, and conquered Yathrib in mere months compared to Amanikhabale's year long campaign. In the end, he supported two powerful generals, one joking and convivial to his men, the other manipulative, who used the Mascat Marauders Amanikhabale raised and turned them into….barbarians. His people were not as violent, nor as depraved as the marauders, yet their reputation spread. It is with that reputation that Gerrhaea, Nabatea, and Qidri glanced at Himyar scornfully. Yet, even surrounded by hostiles, Syphax would find a way, for he had to. No other alternative was acceptable.

Author's Note: Sorry for those who think the battles were lackluster and boring! Unfortunately I found no real challenge in fighting Saba and Ma'in, so until I find Egypt or another major faction your stuck with the levy spearmen armies of the Arabic factions L. Though, I can already tell that they were hiring more troops, hopefully they'll turn much more powerful in time. Also, I don't control my armies in battle, I put them in AI control. This is for two reasons, one, I'm not a tactical genius, so I don't expect to do anything special, but two, it makes it easier to write, as I'm focusing on the events of the battle, and not the specifics of battle itself. There are points where, when it's ridiculous, I'll change orders, but other than that we should be fine. Stories of the life of the men inside the army will be coming soon!

I suppose listing all non military bonuses and units would be quite boring for some, so I'll just be posting armies, their unit compositions, cities, and their unit compositions!

Amanikhabale's Heralds of Allatu:

Amanikhabale: Armoured Camel Rider

Six units of Himyar Cavalry

Two units of Tabriz Peltasts

Two units of Citizen Spearmen

One unit of Camel Spearmen

One unit of Sabean Raiders

Two units of Desert Camel Archers

Four units of Levy Skirmishers

One unit of Slingers

Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun:

Aristenyesbokhe: Noble Swordsmen

Two units of Noble Swordsmen

Five units of Maas Gat Marauders

Four units of Desert Camel Archers

Amani-bakhi's Spice Masters:

Amani-bakhi: Missile Penteres, Archers

Eudaemon:

Six units of Levy Spearmen

Nine units of Levy Skirmishers

One unit of Tribes People

Marib:

Two units of Noble Swordsmen

One unit of Arabian cavalry

Four units of Levy Spearmen

Six units of Levy Skirmishers

Yathrib:

One unit of Arabian Cavalry

Two units of Levy Spearmen

Six units of Levy Skirmishers

One unit of Tribes People

Thanks for reading!


	3. Consuming Sands

A King's Vision

Chapter Three: Consuming Sands

"…And I hope that, in this agreement, prosperity can come to our people!" The Gerrhaean diplomat finished his little spiel, and stood by, smiling, as he waited for Syphax's response. The offer was intriguing. On one hand, he risked angering the Persians, allied with the Seleucid Empire. If he had declined, however, he would find himself between Gerrhaea, Qidri, AND Mascat all at the same time. For now, he decided he should play nice. Leaning forward, the king raised a sigh, punctuating his displeasure, "Aye, prosperity will come. Your request for trade in our lands, as well as a non aggression pact between out kingdoms is granted. You may leave now."

Unbeknownst to the king, events were transpiring throughout the area, which would change everything, forever. The king would later look upon these events and marvel at them; they were the stepping stones to the beginning of the Himyarians rise to power. It wasn't even one month before a messenger was racing to the king's tent; stationed outside of the city, and the royal palace. While risky, Syphax preferred the outdoors to the spacious palace.

The horse was heaving by the time the courier reached his destination; the king had to know NOW. "Sir!" Bursting into the tent, the courier was nearly killed by an overzealous guard's spear. Realizing his mistake, he quietly put the spear down and hastily retreated. Syphax, alarmed by the courier's sudden appearance, held his hand up, "Calm yourself, then speak. What news do you bring?" The courier was smiling, no, beaming, at what he was about to say, "Our diplomats have persuaded Qidri to trade! Not only that, but here are three documents here, my liege, that you must read!"

The king slowly rose, and descended the small staircase leading up to his humble seat. Sitting down at a table, he unrolled one of the scrolls. The title alone caused the king's eyes to widen, in disbelief, as the courier ushered in more men, who carried bags of gold.

_ The people of Qidri, in accordance with our law, hereby pronounce Syphax as our king. In pertaining to his law, we will grant tribute every three months. In return, Syphax, king of the Himyarites, must provide protection to Qidri's people, and secure her future in the sands of time._

The other two scrolls were the same. Qidri, Mascat, and Gerrhaea had all offered their vassalage to him. Not in confederation, but as client states. "Sir!" Whipping his head to a soldier, the king witnessed gold pouring from a bag, "Gerrhaea has granted us six thousand gold pieces, sir! Mascat and Qidri had granted us one thousand each, sir!" The world seemed to fade for Syphax. It was surreal. What had caused this? But then, he remembered. Qidri, Mascat, and Gerrhaea all shared a rivalry with the Seleucid Empire. No doubt wanting protection, they looked to the largest kingdom in Arabia. His own kingdom was a clear winner, after conquering both Ma'in and Saba. It was amazing, to think that in the span of two years he was able to conquer Arabia's lands, and subject her people to him! His father would have been proud. Of course, now, he needed more defenses. Egypt reportedly was not fond of Qidri's war with Nabatea, and they were neutral with Himyar as of far. Quickly, he sent out a diplomat to secure a non aggression pact with Egypt. Hopefully, if they were to war with Nabatea, Egypt would look the other way in favor of Himyar, the larger and superior force.

Of course, he still had issues. Meroe had conquered Axum, and was hostile with Himyar. If they were to attempt sea invasion, he needed a strong navy. Luckily enough, Amani-bakhi was recruiting more vessels to their navy, and with luck, they would be able to secure the waters of the Red Sea. With only a harbor, and no militarized sea section, they were only able to eke out levied spearmen, yet the boats were sturdy. Hopefully, they would hold.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Right before him, five more scrolls. He scanned the list….Parthava….Arachosia…..Sagartia…..Parthia…..Egypt?! It was unreal. It seemed that even Egypt was weakening…. All of these nations who had become his clients were powerful in their own merit, and for them to seek protection from him seemed almost laughable. But then he soon realized it. Now, he had more client states than the Seleucid Empire. Now, he had a chance…AGAINST the Seleucid Empire….. The great Seleucids, a successor kingdom, who claimed to be the true heirs of Alexander the Great. He had heard about these. Egypt, one of the successors, is now his own client state! It was amazing that they had subjected their proud Pharaoh to him, but it seemed that a mere alliance was no incentive. Perhaps they thought that the idea of tributes was intoxicating? It was, for him, to have so much power in so little time. This is why he declared war on Nabatea.

Qidri had been destroyed by the Nabateans, their warriors attacking the weary soldiers after their failed campaign in Median lands, and he planned to exact revenge. Already, Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun marched to Adummatu. Qidri would be revived, after facing three months of slavery by the Nabateans. Akinidad, a high ranking leader in the Nabatean military….had been quietly 'dealt' with, by Jugurtha. In the meantime, the Burning Sands, a new army led by a noble named Amanikhalika had begun mustering men to help Amanikhabale's Heralds of Allatu. In Marib, his younger cousin Ozalces mustered men for the Stone Burners in preparation of war. Syphax was still plagued by thoughts of an heir. While his death would mean the ascension of his brother, he wanted an heir of his own to inherit the throne. But who? Still, he had no clear answer.

The army had their general assassinated in an hour, and then three hours later had their provisions poisoned. The Nabatean fill in commander looked in consternation at his men, all were either choking or dieing as the poison entered their systems, and he saw multitudes of his less resilient and experienced men fall. His army was indeed one to be proud of, consisting of many upper class warriors. But, with nowhere to run, the Heralds of Allatu had a great shadow cast upon the helpless men's faces.

The Dread Nomads were indeed impressive, as they held the infantry advantage. Three units of noble swordsmen proudly guarded their other units, with Tabriz peltasts and indo-kush swordsmen at their beck and call. However, they still had a core of levied spearmen. But the one area they were sorely lacking in was cavalry. The Burning Sands had already mustered a sizable force of cavalry, and the prospect of fighting such cavalry was daunting for the Dread Nomad's infantry based army. They didn't know how bad they had it though. What began as a skirmish of archers turned into a full blown battle as the Heralds of Allatu marched onto the field.

The first stages were mild, the Burning Sands had a cavalry only force, and their camels were formidable. The desert spearmen cavalry were clad in tan turbans and robes, and wielded long spears along with pelte styled shields. The crescent styled shields were light, and were of dull color, meant to help surprise ambushes in the desert. The archers seemed exactly the same, only with curved bows instead of spears and pelte shields. Then, the Heralds of Allatu marched into sight.

The citizen spearmen had large wicker shields, and wielded mighty spears in their hands, while wearing light robes to maximize speed. Similar in appearance, but not in headgear, the Tabriz peltasts wore tan, early versions of shemaghs, and wielded curved swords along with pelte shields. Sabean raiders complemented the army; tan clothing, with round hide shields and javelins to pelt the enemy. Complementing the force were levy skirmishers and slingers, lightly armored and designed to wear the enemy down. Then, there were Amanikhabale's Knights, the Himyarian Cavalry. These men were equipped with the linothorax, like the marauders, but had butted chain mail behind them, to offer protection from ranged weaponry and slashing weapons. In their hands, they carried straight, steel swords that gleamed even in the desert sands, and their shields ranged from the humble pelte to the mighty round shield of iron. Charging forth, the Heralds rushed into combat to support the Sands.

No one knew why, though, the events that transpired next. Perhaps it was because Amanikhalika was new. Perhaps his unit commanders were incompetent, or could not hear. They charged straight into the spearmen of the enemy. Sensing the urgency, Amanikhabale urged his army to charge forth. Rushing forward, the Himyarian Cavalry cut down large swathes of enemies as the foes ran in terror of this new threat. But, every battle has casualties, and a large amount of the Burning Sand's cavalry force was lost due to miscommunication. But the biggest loss was in the battle itself. Amanikhabale drove headfirst into a troop of enemy spearmen from the blank to break their morale. However, when his armored camel crushed a man's head, the man's spear braced against the ground as he died, causing the camel to crash into it. Thrown from his armored camel, Amanikhabale could only watch as the heavy camel crashed down on his world. A brave man died that day, trying to save his men. He would sacrifice his own life to fight with his men. Amanikhabale's Knights never changed their name, as homage to their brave commander, who fought with the rest of them instead of cowering near the back to wait for their soldiers to do everything.

Atlanersa, a new noble, was their new commander, yet the Heralds resented it. For one, he did not use their Armored Camel bodyguard, but dismissed them, and used a Yathrib Lancer unit acquired when Himyar conquered Ma'in. Not only that, but he was zealous, most likely by the champion's influence, which joined their company in order to bolster their training.

"I don't like it either, yet we must continue to follow the commander. Are you not loyal, Basil?" The questioning of his fellow citizen spearmen started to grate the veteran. The new blood was recruited to replenish the men who had died in the battles before, and they were as curious as they were annoying. "I am loyal, yet I must question a commander who seems so similar to Aristenyesbokhe, who led his men to disastrous victory. Ten of his units were destroyed, and he took long to recover." The very thought of being thrown away as a simple tool was disgusting to him. Sighing, Basil walked away from the recruit, and walked to join his fellow veterans, who were with Amanikhabale since they had first been recruited. One of the men smiled at him sadly, "The end of a dream, the beginning of a nightmare, eh, Basil?" Basil merely shook his head, "No. The future is uncertain. We can only pray that God will grant us victory, yet I have my doubts."

Sitting down, he joined the rest of the men in supper. The flat bread seemed even duller in the knowledge that their commander was most likely even more incompetent than Aristenyesbokhe. Chasing the bread down with water, the weary veteran watched outside as the Himyarian Cavalry did their rounds. Their fighting style was elegant, and it seemed to be adopted from Amanikhabale himself, focused on an overwhelming offense, not to kill, but to distract for an ally to make a directed strike. The technique focused not on the individual, but the whole strength of the army, and was suited for a man of Amanikhabale's title. Of course, Amanikhabale's Knights were not actually Amanikhabale, but they were a fond reminder of their former commander.

That reminder was shattered as Atlanersa strutted into the camp. Almost instantly, the men fell silent, seemingly resenting the man, who had placed himself above everyone else. They all noticed the elaborate armor he and his lancers wore, along with their heavy, powerful horses and their superior weapons and shields. Not noticing a thing, Atlanersa called the unit commanders to him as they shared supper in Amanikhabale's old tent; now Atlanersa's. While the men ate old bread, Atlanersa feasted on date fruit and goat meat, along with fine water and bread. If looks could kill, the glares of all the men in the camp would have caused Atlanersa's death a thousand times over.

"CHAARGE!" Following the war cry, the marauders crashed into their foe, smashing their clubs down upon the hapless levied spearmen, as camel spearmen crashed into their flanks. Finally, as the enemy routed, camel archers chased down the enemy and shot them all. No prisoners were taken in that battle; all were slain, by club, lance, or arrow. The settlement was easy to take, the Nabateans had tried to fortify the area in the short time they had, but in the end, it wasn't enough, and the Warriors of the Sun crushed all of the Nabateans in the settlement. After liberating all of the slaves in the Qidrian community, Aristenyesbokhe gave them a private ultimatum that never reached any other ears: Join Himyar in full, and serve Aristenyesbokhe, or have their city occupied, their culture gone, and their history lost forever. For the weary Armaniastabarqo, last of the Qidrian royal line, the decision was obvious.

She had a weary smile; the last year seemed to be decades ago, and her nightmare was finally over. She was telling her story to the children, exaggerating some parts, as she told them of the history of the Sabean kingdom. It was by mercy that they had remained, and it was fortunate that the Himyarian sage was so altruistic. Suddenly, she stopped. The sage had returned, but it seemed as if he was supporting someone, someone who walked with a cane, and had an unsteady step. The stranger's arms and legs seemed disfigured, and she couldn't make out her face. Straining her eyes to see better, Fajr gasped. It was her mother. After Mu'tamid beat her to a bloody pulp, Karkamani had nursed her back to health, and assured her that Fajr had lived the battle at Marib. Trembling, Fajr ran to her mother, as Nimat broke free of Karkamani's grip and started stumbling towards her daughter.

Catching her, the beaten mother sobbed heavily; thank the gods that her last daughter was okay! Thank the gods that she could be reunited with her! Three cloaked figures ascended the hill, leading a small entourage of carts. The leader of the Sabeans raced out of a makeshift tent, and received the gifts with joy, hugging Karkamani as he thanked the sage for sparing his people. Smiling, Karkamani left, and his assassins too. Yet, Karkamani an uneasy feeling. The Sabean encampment was, while thriving, draining the resources of the Himyarian kingdom. Not only that, but if Syphax were to learn about it, the Sabeans would almost certainly be killed. To prevent that, he needed to get rid of all witnesses, excluding himself. This included the assassins.

Senkamanisten was a good sage. He was authoritative, powerful, and wealthy, yet he underestimated the integrity of his opponent. The Nabatean sage was trying rather unsuccessfully to turn Karkamani against Himyar. The Himyarian sage was traveling in the desert, then stopped, and sat down on a large white blanket to rest. Several smaller cloths were placed, most likely so he could eat a small meal. Senkamanisten was having very little luck when he encountered Karkamani, and it started to reflect in his threats, "That encampment of Sabeans would interest your king, would it not? Karkamani, you cannot be as foolish as to believe that such meager supplies would hold them for so long. You only hope to divert your own kingdoms resources to help them. Kindness is very good for a man of your standing, yet in times of war, mercy is considered weakness. Syphax would be indeed interested if he learned that his top sage had been merciful, no? Come, join Nabatea. Our enemies are many, but with enough political savvy, we can tip the scales and become the empire we were meant to be! If not, I am afraid that your life will end here."

Waving his hand, two assassins came forward, each wearing a mask to cover their face. They each wielded daggers, and looked eager to spill Karkamani's blood. Karkamani merely looked at the man, and then started tapping the ground with his foot. All around the sages and the assassins was an endless expanse of sand. The Nabatean sage beckoned his men forward, "It seems you will not cooperate. It is a shame, yet I am afraid of what I must do." With that, he waved his hand forward, and the mercenaries leaped at the Himyarian sage.

Bursting up, the 'blankets' were not blankets at all, they were only coverings for Karkamani's entourage, whom Senkamanisken had thought went away, to his dismay. The assassins threw the blankets at the attackers, as the sand carried within them created a small screen for the assassins to operate. One of Senkamanisken's assassins fell, a bloody dagger clutched in his hand, evidently in his last moments trying to pull it from his stomach. The second withdrew to Senkamanisken, and as the sand died down, so too did their temporary blindness.

The younger of Karkamani's assassins leapt forward, expecting an easy kill. Yet, with wealth, comes power, and the power to get the best of the best. Moving at the last second, Senkamanisken's elite assassin sidestepped the young assassin, and crashed the pommel of his dagger into his head, causing the younger assassin to crumple in unconsciousness. Karkamani's other two assassins stepped forward, and instead of daggers, drew scimitars, more suited for an engagement like this. However, they were surprised as the elite sheathed his dagger, and drew a bow, when they were only ten meters away. Charging, the assassins tried to tackle the elite, only for him to whip around, using his cloak as a shield to tangle up their swords. Swiftly, he swept down, and the swords clattered uselessly to the ground as he drew an arrow with his other hand. One of Karkamani's assassins couldn't react fast enough, and fell back screaming with an arrow sticking from his eye. The second tried to press his advantage, only to pause as he found that the other assassin already drew another arrow, and had the bowstring pulled back tight. The assassin only had a second to blink before his world went dark as the sharp implement crashed through his right eye socket and into his brain.

Looking disdainfully at the young assassin, the veteran took up the scimitar of the assassin, and killed the younger one. Now, it was only Karkamani, the last assassin had died of blood loss before long. Walking forth slowly, he drew another arrow, and aimed his bow at Karkamani. "It is not too late to reconsider, Karkamani." The sage was impressed; he had never seen such an ambush, but Karkamani lacked the manpower to defeat his veteran assassin. Karkamani merely looked at the man, and smiled. Then, he raised his hand, and pointed his finger at Senkamanisken. Instantly, the elite assassin turned, and shot his arrow at the Nabatean sage. Gasping in surprise, Senkamanisken looked down, as blood started seeping from his robe. Eyes bugged out, he could only look at his assassin as he scrambled to get words out, yet couldn't, and died. The sand swept through the area, and all evidence of combat had been wiped out. The three assassins, if prompted, would have told Syphax about the Sabeans. Until he was ready, though, Karkamani couldn't have any witnesses.

"It is not MARRIAGE, we are proposing, we have no need of harried mothers!" The Baktrian diplomat was very…..lively. Painfully, it also reminded Syphax of Amanikhabale. The man fell in battle bravely, to be replaced with his cousin, Atlanersa. Yet, he already knew the men resented him, Atlanersa always tried to overcompensate and be too gentle, and then be too rough. Trying to please everyone, he pleased no one, and trying to not pick a side, all belligerents detested him. Syphax sighed, and then signed the non aggression pact. Baktria was a Successor Kingdom, just as Egypt and the Seleucids. He now had contact with all of the successors, save one. Macedon, the starting grounds of Alexander the Great. Looking at the map, of the lands that paid tribute to him, made Syphax proud. His people have come to expand before their wildest dreams. While the challenge of raising up a new empire was there, he knew that he could trust his men. But that meant he had to show them that he could be trusted himself. Shutting himself into an office, Syphax was rarely seen by any of his extended family, save for his slaves, and he seemed to be planning something.

It was infuriating. He, Aristenyesbokhe, the now most experienced commander in the entire kingdom, was sent to lay waste to the backwater settlement of Nabatea, while Atlanersa's Heralds went to capture their capital. It made no sense, why waste good men on a flat of ground inhabited by only a few thousand men? It felt insulting to the proud commander. Unfortunately for the defending Nabateans, he channeled his rage upon them. Turning to Mu'tamid, the symbol of the marauders, he said to him, "Kill, destroy, enslave. Those are your orders." Smiling like a child, Mu'tamid beckoned his marauders forth as they and Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun charged into battle with the city's garrison.

The garrison didn't stand a shadow of a chance. Swiftly, camel spearmen slammed into archers, and as spearmen went to try and assist them, the Marauders charged, slaughtering countless guards. Then, they charged throughout the settlement. Baskets of fruit were robbed and devoured voraciously by the soldiers, who had been subsisting on bread and water for far too long. Then, the marauders assembled torches, and threw them into homes, killing or enslaving any inhabitants who tried to run from the flames.

"Yes, I know that I am not popular. In fact, I believe that is an understatement. I cannot ever truly fill the role of Amanikhabale, yet I must ask of all of your loyalty…." Basil rolled his eyes, their new commander would never reach Amanikhabale's eloquence, and his attempt to do so only served to make the veteran troops grumble. Sighing, he picked up his spear; they were attacking Charmuthas, Nabatea's capital, most likely an attempt by Syphax to give the Heralds battle experience with their new general. Unbeknownst to them, however, Aristenyesbokhe had different plans.

"Heralds! Charge!" The cavalry charged onwards, determined to prove that the Heralds were still strong, even without Amanikhabale. Yet, a surprise was waiting for Basil, as he looked back, and his heart stopped for a moment in sheer fright. The banner of the Warriors of the Sun flew high and proud in the desert, and Maas Gat marauders charged onto the battlefield. Aristenyesbokhe would never allow another to get the full cut of glory if he had anything to say about it.

_ His eyes were burning into him. They were goading him to kill his prisoner. Yet, Basil refused. Honor was important, and allowing this man to live would be beneficial to their diplomatic status with other kingdoms. However, he couldn't react fast enough to the club, and the tall marauder smashed his prisoner's face in. Stricken, he only stared at the marauder as he licked the blood of the mace, pointed at the stars, and thanked God. Truly, that man was a monster. He resolved to never combat with him again._

Yet, many promises are broken. This time, however, Basil had the advantage. The tall marauder, recognized by the purple cloth around his eye, rumored to be from an enemy's stone, made him instantly recognizable. About to club a surrendering spearman from Nabatea, a wicker shield bashed into Mu'tamid, knocking him off balance. Snarling, he only looked back to see no one. Whipping around, he saw no one, yet was bashed again in the back. The coward was using his damaged eye as a blind spot! Howling, Mu'tamid whipped his club around him, but it hit none. Then, turning again, he was face to face with a citizen spearman from the Heralds. Frowning, he recognized him; he refused to kill his prisoner, and looked disapprovingly as he killed him! Spitting on the ground, Mu'tamid turned to finish off his prisoner, only for him to be gone. Whipping around once more, he started shouting, "Are you daft!? You let my f***ing prisoner escape! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Basil merely smiled at the angry marauder as he slipped back into his unit. The beating for breaking formation afterwards was definitely worth it.

The battle was quick, and easy. Scattered after the initial Himyarian charge from the Knights, the levied spearmen fled in fear, leaving their skirmishers vulnerable to even more flanking Knights. The Knights of Amanikhabale stood true to their noble intentions, and spared all surrendering units. They even formed a ring around them, to make sure no Warriors of the Sun got in. Staring impudently at the zealous camel riders, the rivalry between the Heralds and the Warriors was sealed into Himyarian history.

"This…. This is impossible! This is impossible!" The king was in a cold sweat, such a thing had never happened before. Yet it had happened now. His kingdom…no, his EMPIRE, was now the strongest in the known world, he believed. The scrolls had numbered twelve, all offering their vassalage to the Himyarian Empire. It seemed impossible, but there it was. All of them, hearing of his fair treatment to his vassals, declared their allegiance to Syphax, the King of the Himyarian Empire. But, that was not the most shocking thing. There, in refined handwriting, was the pledge from Macedon. The last successor kingdom had sworn vassalage to him. No doubt, the Seleucid…Kingdom was starting to topple. With nearly all of the Mesopotamia secured with his vassals, he could secure his position and consolidate his empire, making sure his overseas allies and his nearby allies could overcome their military trials.

His first priority, however, was the Seleucids. Now thoroughly weakened, and with hostiles all around their areas, the proud Seleucids time was at hand. With a vast empire came vast power. And none found as much power as Syphax had acquired over the last few years. In anonymity, he had risen, and forged an Empire larger than Alexander the Great's, if one added in client states. However, the new political and economical gain worried him. He also worried for his more powerful client states. Egypt would not be pleased.

He soon found himself in the seat of extreme diplomatic power. With such power, he was able to coerce the Nasamones into assimilating into his ever growing empire. With their loyalty, came their armies. While admittedly not in top quality, the sheer volume of units would hopefully turn into a great military force for the king. Not only that, but he was able to bribe Blemmyes, Meroe, and the tribes of the Scordisci to join him as vassals. His empire seemed to be absolute, and it seemed that total control over the known world would someday be his. Yet, unbeknownst to him, rival factions were stirring up against him. Whether they were internal or external did not matter, soon, various groups learned to hate him. The most powerful of those who disapproved of him, no longer the dieing Seleucids, were the Libyans, vassals of Carthage. He had heard of Hamilcar, and his exploits. He had also, by extension, heard of Rome, a major world power, with a seemingly invincible army. Hopefully, he would be able to bend their wills. Or crush them beneath his heel.

Realizing that he now had control over the seas in his area, he disbanded a smaller navy commandeered by a general, and instead focused minimal resources to Amani-bakhi's fleet, they would wipe out the remaining Nabatean navy, and then be disbanded for further use. Not only that, but he started raising up far more armies than he had before, and started recruiting large amounts of forces, the people flocking to him, and looking at him as if he was a deity. Such a growth was unheard of in years, and to become such a large empire amazed the people of Himyar. They felt important, and felt that they had a responsibility to show the world they deserved this power. As such, many people were rallied to the call, and many joined the armies of nobles.

In the camp of Atlanersa, the grumblings of the soldiers could be heard, as well as the brooding of a certain citizen spearman named Basil. In Aristenyesbokhe's camp, the marauders were showing off their teeth necklaces to each other, once again, Mu'tamid beat them by twenty three. In Ozalces's Stone Burners, a new army raised by a former Sabean war prisoner, Kardakes swordsmen were hired to test their mettle, as well as Arabian light infantry, well known for their dual purpose of skirmishing and light melee combat. In Amani-bakhi's Spice Masters, they prepared for their final voyage, sharing wine and recollecting their good times sailing in the Red Sea, and promising to come back together once Himyar had control to vaster seas. Amanikhalika's Burning Sands prepared to take the fight to Media, after chasing a rogue army for miles, month after month. Pakheme, a new noble, was in favor of recruiting an army based off of their client states, and recruited a small force in Egypt. Amanataraqide, a new noble, mustered an army to commemorate the Sabeans in Marib. The three new Nasamones commanders turned their eyes to Cyrenaica, their former allies, and without hesitation prepared for combat with their old friends. All of these men prepared for war, and for the conquest, for the glorious Himyarite Empire.

Sorry for the short chapter, a lot of things started popping up, so I just shortened it, since the real action begins soon! Gaining the Nasamones territory and armies were pretty important, since it allowed a direct route for me to attack Cyrenaica, the current enemies of Egypt, a pretty powerful ally of mine at the moment. It also opens up sea trade with the inner portion of the map, crucial for trade with my newly acquired client states. Not only that, but time for a massive chapter overview, since I have a ton of new generals, troops, territories, and client states! Note: You may see the same name multiple times, due to CA's naming system, my apologies if any of them confuse you.

Armies: Atlanersa's Heralds of Allatu:

Atlanersa- Yathrib Heavy Lancer Unit

One Noble Swordsmen Unit

Five Himyar Cavalry Units

Two Tabriz Peltast Units

Two Citizen Spearmen Units

Four Levy Skirmisher Units

One Slinger Unit

One Camel Spearmen Unit

Two Desert Camel Archer Units

One Sabean Raider Unit

Aristenyesbokhe's Warriors of the Sun:

Aristenyesbokhe- Noble Swordsmen Unit

Two Noble Swordsmen Units

Six Maas Gat Marauder Units

Five Camel Spearmen Units

Six Desert Camel Archer Units

Ozalces's Stone Burners:

Ozalces- Yathrib Heavy Lancer Unit

Eight Kardakes Swordsmen Units

Seven Arabian Light Infantry Units

Four Camel Spearmen Units

Amani-bakhi's Spice Masters (Soon to be disbanded):

Amani-bakhi- Missile Penteres, Archers

Ten Assault Tetreres Ships, Levy Spearmen

Three Scorpion Trieres Ships, Levy Skirmishers

Amanikhalika's Burning Sands:

Amanikhalika- Yathrib Heavy Lancer Unit

Nine Levy Spearmen Units

Five Camel Spearmen Units

Five Desert Camel Archer Units

Pakheme's Sons of Mahrem:

Pakheme- Armoured Camel Rider Unit

One Light Cavalry Unit

One Levy Thureos Spears Unit

Amanataraqide's Desert Scorpions:

Amanataraqide- Yathrib Heavy Lancer Unit

Nine Noble Swordsmen Units

(Former Nasamones Commander) Ozalces's Stone Burners:

Ozalces: Large Shield Warrior Unit

Two Blemmyes Noble Horsemen Units

Ten Levy Spearmen Units

Six Tribal Slinger Units

(Former Nasamones Commander) Amanikhalika's Heralds of Allatu:

Amanikhalika- Garamantian Heavy Spear Unit

Five Blemmyes Noble Horsemen Units

Two Mercenary African Elephant Units

Three Chariot Raider Units

Five Levy Spearmen Units

Four Tribal Slinger Units

Kalabsha's Bronze Warriors:

Kalabsha- Large Shield Warrior Unit

Three Blemmyes Noble Horsemen Units

Two Levy Spearmen Units

Two Tribal Slinger Units

One Chariot Raider Unit

Warring With: Persia, Nabatea, Media, Drangiana, Sardes, Triballi, Seleucid

Client States: Arachosia, Ardhan, Bithynia, Blemmyes, Gerrhaea, Kartli, Mascat, Media Atropatene, Meroe, Parthava, Pergamon, Rhodos, Sagartia, Scordisci, Trapezos, Parthia, Athens, Baktria, Egypt, Macedon, Pontus, and Sparta.

Whew! Quite a lot done in those ten turns, I think! Next time, we'll be going into the micro lives of each general and their armies in better detail, as well as the issues of Cyrenaica, the new Nasamones generals, and the faltering Seleucid Empire!


	4. Announcement

Update

Good news and bad news! Good news: CA released a new patch!

Bad news: It corrupted my save, ruined my mods, and generally erased my game in total. I apologize for this inconvenience, as I say I will have to cancel this series. I thank you all for taking the time to read this story in the first place, I wish you all a good day/afternoon/evening/night wherever you are!


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